


Thanks

by ericaismeg



Series: 30 Days of Writing [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Drunk Dialing, Drunk Stiles, Drunk Texting, Hale's Coffee, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/ericaismeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have never gotten along, but when Stiles accidentally switches cell phones with Erica and drunk dials Derek instead of Lydia, they learn that they might just be able to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to attempt this [writing challenge](http://foxerica.tumblr.com/post/84097258077/felicitygs-spontaneousfangasm).
> 
> Day Four.  
> The word of the day: thanks.

 

Derek glances down at his buzzing phone. His eyebrows come together. It’s close to 1AM, and there are only three people who ever call him. Cora is currently out of the country, so she wouldn’t call. Laura is asleep upstairs. Erica’s out drinking with some friends she had from high school, and she never drunk dialed him. He picks up the phone anyway, thinking that he needs to get caller ID eventually.

            “Hello,” he states simply. He wonders if the caller can hear the slight puzzled tone.

            “ _Well you’re not a girl_ ,” a voice comes. It’s masculine, and slurred.

            “Uh, no. You have the wrong number,” Derek tells the caller. There’s a drunken hiccup and then a burst of laughter.

            “ _Whoops, this isn’t even my phone! You’re definitely not my number one on speed dial. Dammit, how did I do this?_ ” The drunk guy takes a deep breath, and clearly tries to sound as sober as possible. “ _I am so sorry for calling you. I hope you weren’t asleep!_ ”

            Derek looks down at the paper he’s working on for college. “No, I’m not asleep. Just working.”

            “ _Working? At this hour? Duuuuude, that fucking blows. Is it at least interesting?_ ” The drunk person sound curious.

            Derek leans back in his chair. “Nawh, it’s just a paper for school.”

            “ _Dude, it’s Friday. You shouldn’t be doing homework! What is wrong with the world?_ ” the guy asks, and then he makes a bunch of ruffling noises in the background.

            “I work all weekend and it’s due 8AM on Monday,” Derek finds himself explaining. He should have hung up by now, but he feels compelled to stay on the line.

            “ _That blows, oh man. I don’t—ow! Fuck, why did that—ow, goddammit._ ”

            “Are you…okay?” Derek asks. He’s not sure why he cares.

            “ _Yeah, yeah, dude. Totally a-okay. Just walked into a wall,_ ” the drunk guy explains. “ _I don’t know this apartment well, apparently. Been living here for two years though._ ”

            Derek finds himself amused, and he’s not entirely sure why. He asks, “If this isn’t your phone, whose is it?”

            There’s some noise, and then the voice comes back strongly. “ _I can’t tell you. It’s an iPhone 4. Could be anyone’s, I guess._ ”

            “I—” Derek decides not to argue with a drunk person. He looks back at his screen. One more paragraph and then he could be done with this paper. “I’m going to let you go now, okay?”

            “ _Wait! No, dude_ ,” the drunk guy says, sounding disappointed. “ _Not yet. Can you just…stay on the phone for a bit_?”

            Derek looks at his screen. He could finish the last paragraph at work tomorrow. He saves it, and closes his laptop. “Alright, I guess. Why?”

            “ _I don’t know. I just hate…I’m just…dude, I don’t even know your name—don’t tell me, it’s more mysterious that way—but your voice is kind of chill. Relaxing. It’s all deep and sexy._ ”

            Derek laughs, despite himself. “Thanks, I guess. Were you out a bar tonight?”

            “ _House party_ ,” the voice answers. “ _It was alright. The ex-love-of-my-life threw it._ ”

            There’s a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. “What happened with your ex?”

            “ _Nothing_ ,” the guy laughs. “ _I don’t actually think she was the love of my life. She used to be, in high school, but she turned me down at every opportunity. Then she got annoyed with me and said we could be friends. She’s been one of my besties ever since. I just…I don’t know. She’s all happy with this jackass, and my best guy friend just started dating another girl. And everyone was…I don’t know, coupled off. So it sucks coming home alone._ ”

            Didn’t Derek understand that well. He crawls into his bed, keeping his phone close to him. “I know what you mean. Minus one of my sisters, I’m the only single one in my circle.”

            “ _Doesn’t that blow?_ ” the kid laughs. “ _Well, clearly it doesn’t blow and that’s the problem_.”

            Derek finds his lips curving, because the drunk kid is amusing.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            It’s not until Derek gets to work the next day that he really thinks about the conversation with the drunk kid. They’d talked for an hour in total, before Derek had had to end it. He’d spent most of the hour listening to him ramble on about his friends, their love lives, and random stories. Derek hadn’t minded which is surprising.

            When he takes his lunch break, he sits down and opens his laptop. He finishes the last paragraph of his paper within ten minutes, and pulls out his phone to text Erica for the next five minutes. Only he finds he has a few texts from Erica.

 

 **ERICA:** _hey so this is the drunk dude from last night_  
 **ERICA:** _it seems I have your friend’s phone  
_ **ERICA:** _but she doesn’t have her contact info anywhere on her phone that I can find_

 **DEREK:** _oh that’s weird, I’ll message her boyfriend_

 **ERICA:** _great, thanks._

            Derek frowns at his phone. His mystery caller from last night had somehow gotten his hands on Erica’s phone. That’s just _weird_. Erica had said she was going to a bar last night—unless he’d misheard her.

 

 **DEREK:** _hey, the guy who has Erica’s phone texted me_

 **BOYD:** _Erica doesn’t have her phone?_  
 **BOYD:** _oh thanks for letting us know—she hadn’t noticed  
_ **BOYD:** _we’re going to come in for a hangover breakfast, that cool?_

 **DEREK:** _sure, I’ll tell my mom_

 

            Derek flips back to the conversation with the guy who has Erica’s phone. He figures that Boyd will text him, and it’ll be obvious that Derek’s taken care of it. However, he types out a message anyway.

 

 **DEREK:** _boyd will text you—he’s with Erica atm_

 **ERICA:** _you’re awesome, thanks  
_ **ERICA:** _sorry about the drunk call last night  
_ **ERICA:** _hope your paper went okay!_

 **DEREK:** _it’s finished now, thanks  
_ **DEREK:** _and no problem_

 **ERICA:** _oh my god I have Erica Reyes’ phone?? It just clicked because you said Boyd_  
 **ERICA:** _hahah, I just found my conversation with Erica on the phone  
_ **ERICA:** _wow I feel stupid now_

**DEREK:** _you know Erica?_

 **ERICA:** _yeah, and I know you too_  
 **ERICA:** _oh my god that makes last night and this conversation ten times more embarrassing  
_ **ERICA:** _I am so sorry_

 

            Derek frowns at his phone, but his mother shouts that his break is over. Too late to do anything about it now. He gets back behind the counter of  _Hale's Coffee_ , ready to serve some customers.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            “Erica, who had your phone?” Derek asks when she comes in looking just like a breathing, walking hangover would. She glares at him, but Derek’s sure that’s just because he made a noise.

            She mumbles, “Stilinski. I guess it happened when we got our asses handed to us playing beer pong.”

            She groans, and drops her head to the table. Boyd looks up at Derek, and smiles. “Think I could sweet-talk your mom into making us eggs?”

            Derek snorts. “She loves you, Boyd. I’m sure I can make that happen. I’ll get you the usual too.”

            “Thanks, Derek.”

            He tries to process Erica’s news. Stilinski—as in _Stiles_ Stilinski. That’s who had drunk called him last night? That’s who he had had such a great conversation with? He frowns at the two heated muffins he brings Boyd and Erica. If either of them acknowledged him, Derek doesn’t notice.

            He brings their coffees over, and then stands behind the counter. He and Stiles hadn’t gotten along before. Not in high school, and definitely not since they’d both ended up at the same college. No, they had highly disliked each other for _years_. Or well, if Derek’s honest, Stiles had disliked him for years. Derek’s not sure he’d ever actually disliked Stiles.

            The kid had guts, and gumption. It’s _nice_. He’s also a sarcastic little shit on any given occasion, and Derek has always been amused by it. Not that he would ever give Stilinski the satisfaction of knowing that. Yet Stiles had been embarrassed about their conversation last night. Why? Derek had enjoyed himself.

            Derek realizes that Lydia must have thrown a party last night. That’s also probably who Stiles was talking about—as far as Derek had known, Stiles had always been into Lydia. He also realizes this means that Stiles had probably tried to drunk call Lydia, and got him instead.

            He frowns at the floor.

            It would be ridiculous of Stiles to ever purposefully drunk call Derek, so last night was just a major fluke. Stiles and Derek had gotten into one too many explosive fights. Sometimes they would be in public, sometimes they would be at mutual friends’ houses. It was never pretty.

            Derek had met Stiles through Erica, who was friends with Isaac Lahey. Isaac is dating Allison Argent, who is Scott McCall’s ex-girlfriend. Derek’s not sure why they all still hang out, but he knows wherever Scott is, Stiles is. The two have been best friends for years.

            Erica and Boyd had become close with that group, and they liked to drag Derek along. He doesn’t mind most of them. In fact, he likes Isaac. Allison doesn’t remind him of her aunt, so he likes her too. Scott is great as well. His new girlfriend, Kira, is funny. Lydia, Stiles’ best friend and crush (ex-crush?), is slightly terrifying but Derek respects her. Her boyfriend, Jackson, is an asshole as Stiles had said.

            Then there’s Stiles. Stiles and Derek just hadn’t clicked from day one. Not that Derek hasn’t been trying to change that for the past year.    

            “Honey, what’s going on with you?” his mother’s soft tone brings his thoughts back to reality. He looks at her and shrugs. She frowns. “Is it school and work? If you’re too stressed out about work, I can make Laura take your shift tomorrow.”

            “I…” Derek thinks about it. It would be nice to have the day off to proofread his essay. Then again, Laura would probably kill him if he made her take his shift. “No, I’m okay. Just tired.”

            “Okay, well a boy just came in. Can you deal with him while I make a call to your father?” she asks.

            Derek nods, and realizes too late that the boy who had just walked in is Stiles Stilinski. He frowns as Stiles walks over to Erica and Boyd’s table. They chatter away, Stiles laughs at Erica snark, and then they exchange phones. Only then does Stiles leave to come up to the counter.

            He doesn’t look at Derek, but simply mumbles, “Can I have a black coffee?”

            Derek refuses to answer that, and just starts to grab a mug.

            “To go!” Stiles adds hastily.

            Derek moves to grab a cup instead. He starts to pour the coffee, and dares himself to glance at Stiles. The kid doesn’t look as though he’d been awake talking to a boy until 2AM. Derek hates him for it. He puts a lid on Stiles’ drink and comes back to the cash register.

            “Thanks.” Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “Uh, about last night—”

            “You were drunk,” Derek says immediately. “You didn’t know. It’s fine.”

            “Did you recognize my voice?” Stiles asks after a minute.

            “I was sleep-deprived,” is the only think Derek can think to say. He adds, “It’s $1.38.”

            “Oh, right.” Stiles pulls some change out and hands it to Derek. He doesn’t take his change back, but grabs his cup and steps away. “Consider it a small donation of apology for being…for the call.”

            Derek only nods, unsure what else to do. Then he’s gone.

           

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

 **ERICA:** _uh why did I call you last weekend?_

 **DEREK:** _you didn’t  
_ **DEREK:** _Stiles did_

**ERICA:** _and you talked for an hour and three minutes??_

 **DEREK:** _yeah, he was drunk and I was tired  
_ **DEREK:** _we didn’t know it was us though_

 **ERICA:** _HOW DID YOU NOT ASK?_

 **DEREK:** _didn’t seem important? I don’t know  
_ **DEREK:** _did you get charged for it? I’ll pay the cost of the call_

 **ERICA:** _you’re on my list of free calling  
_ **ERICA:** _I’m more interested in what you two talked about and how you didn’t fight?_

 **DEREK:** _me too…_

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            “Why didn’t you tell me you talked to Stilinski on the phone?” Boyd asks when he enters their apartment a few hours later. Derek looks up from his laptop.

            “Because it wasn’t important,” Derek mumbles.

            “You and Stiles went _an hour_ without screaming at each other? That’s pretty big man,” Boyd says, flopping onto the couch beside him. “You’ve been trying to make-nice with him for the past year.”

            “I know,” Derek grumbles. “He still thinks that I’m being an asshole though.”

            “Was it a good conversation?”

            Derek flushes. “It was great.”

            “At least you know you’re right,” Boyd tells him with a nod. Derek cocks his head at his friend. “You two _would_ work as a couple…or friends. Whatever. You just have to keep trying, Derek. Stiles likes you.”

            “He hates me.”

            “ _No_ ,” Boyd says, shaking his head. “He _pretends_ to hate you.”

            “Whatever.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            It’s almost two AM when his phone vibrates on the desk next to him about a week and a half after Erica and Boyd’s discovery. He picks it up, and realizes it’s from an unknown number.

 

 **UNKNOWN:** _stle your number cuse I was curiosu_

 **DEREK:** _who is this?_

 **UNKNOWN:** _btter if yuo dont know_

 **DEREK:** _can you please type properly?_

 **UNKNOWN:** _sorry, drunk, put autocorrect on for you  
_ **UNKNOWN:** _are you always so rude to people you don’t know?_

 **DEREK:** _only when they’re cryptic  
_ **DEREK:** _is this Stiles?_

 **UNKNOWN:** _maybe_  
 **UNKNOWN:** _no  
_ **UNKNOWN:** _okay yes it is, fuck you_

Derek props his feet up, and leans back into his chair. Stiles had stolen his number, and had started texting him drunk. A strange feeling settles over him. It’s contentment, Derek realizes with a start.

 

 **DEREK:** _you wouldn’t believe me if I told you that I enjoyed our phone conversation  
_ **DEREK:** _but I did_

A few minutes later, his phone is buzzing again. Derek realizes Stiles is calling him. He answers.

            “Hey.”

            “ _Hullo_ ,” Stiles’ slurred voice comes. “ _I think I’m lost, Derek_.”

            “Uh, I guess asking where you are defeats the purpose. Need me to pick you up?” Derek finds himself offering.

            “ _Uh, maybe, yeah, that could be good._ ”

            “Okay, tell me where does it look like where you are?” Derek says, calmly. He’s standing up, pulling pants on.

            Stiles starts describing a sketchy part of town, and when he mentions a strange building with a bright red door, Derek knows exactly where he is. He groans, and says, “Stiles, I’ll be right there. Can you sit down somewhere?”

            “ _Sure, I’m on the curb_ ,” Stiles replies. There’s a frown in his voice. “ _Derek, how’d I end up here?_ ”

            “I have no idea,” Derek mutters into the phone. He’s getting into his car. He puts Stiles’ on speakerphone. “Can you hear me?”

            “ _Yuppers_ ,” Stiles says. “ _I really liked talking to you two weeks ago._ ”

            “Same,” Derek admits with a frown. “Where are your friends?”

            “ _No friends, they were all busy, so I got drunk alone_.” Stiles hiccups. “ _Stupid me._ ”

            Derek idly talks to him as he pulls into the neighbour he knows far too well. He wishes he hadn’t hung around here, but bad breakups suck and bad crowds seem like a good idea when in a bad place. He spots Stiles, lying on his back, his feet sticking out on the road. “I’m here.”

            Stiles sits up suddenly, and then waves. “ _Hi_.”

            “Hi,” Derek murmurs. He hangs up the phone and pulls up. He starts to open his car door, but Stiles is standing and opening the passenger door.

            “This is cool of you,” Stiles says. The alcohol on his breath makes Derek wince a little. He pulls his seatbelt on and closes his eyes. “Sorry, so sorry.”

            “It’s not your fault. I offered to pick you up. I think I remember where you live, but you might need to stay awake to tell me if I’m wrong.” Derek glances at the kid, who nods, and then groans dramatically.

            “This is so embarrassing. I am so embarrassed,” Stiles mumbles. He looks out the window. “Ugh, This is officially the _worst_.”

            “Why is it so bad?” Derek asks quietly.

            “Because!” Stiles says as though it answers everything. “Oh god, slow down. I might get sick.”

            Derek immediately lets off the gas. Stiles leans forward, breathing carefully. “We’re only ten minutes from your place. Think you can make it?”

            “Yeah,” Stiles says after a moment. “Everything’s just really spinny. So, so spinny. I feel fuzzy. God, do you feel fuzzy?”

            Derek’s lips quirk up. “No, I don’t. Is it a bad fuzzy?”

            “No,” Stiles breathes. “Talking and moving is just…wow.”

            “Okay, we won’t talk anymore.”

            The rest of the car ride goes smoothly, and quietly. When Derek pulls into Stiles’ apartment building’s parking lot, he eases into park, and shuts the car off. Stiles looks at him for the first time then. “What are you…?”

            “I want to make sure you get into your apartment,” Derek explains. “Give me a second.”

            He gets out and walks to Stiles’ side of the car. Then he opens the door, and holds a hand. Stiles takes it, and Derek ignores the way the kid’s hand trembles as if Derek might hurt him. He tucks his arm around Stiles’ waist and shuts the door. Then they walk to the building door.

            “Yeah, I don’t think I could’ve made it,” Stiles admits. He leans into Derek and fumbles to get his keys out of his pocket when they reach the door. He inhales deeply. “Wow. Okay. Wow. I am _drunk_.”

            Derek chuckles. “Yeah, I noticed. I thought you were going to vomit in my precious car.”

            Stiles snorts. “I’d _never_ …on purpose, anyway.”

            They get the door open, and enter the elevator. Stiles’ hits 14 and then leans into Derek. He closes his eyes, and Derek wonders if this is possibly his way of getting Stiles to see that he isn’t such a bad guy.

            He hopes so.

            “C’mon,” Derek murmurs when the elevator door opens. He helps Stiles’ down the hall. He’d been here, once. It’d been to apologize to Stiles after one of their more explosive arguments at the bar. He’d accidentally implied that Stiles was a loser who only had friends that pitied him. It hadn’t been true, and it would never be true. But it had hit close to home, because Stiles had been feeling left out. Derek had known that too.

            He’s not sure why he didn’t recognize that it was Stiles on the phone, whispering those secrets. Derek wonders if he had but he hadn’t wanted to ruin it.

            “Want me to help you…?” Derek asks, when Stiles shoves his keys into his hands.

            “I wasn’t always like this,” Stiles mumbles. “Not always, but you see me like this.”

            Derek knows what he’s talking about—during a different fight, Derek had told Stiles that he had a problem with alcohol. He used it to forget his “pathetic life”. Derek really should have stopped talking years ago. He was never nice to Stiles, not really. He’d been working on it though.

            Especially after Kate dumped his ass. Stiles had been sympathetic then. They’d gotten drunk together—coincidentally at the same bar on the same night, both alone. It’d been one of the rare times that they’d put all of their asshole stuff aside. Stiles had told Derek what a bitch Kate was, and how he hated her.

            It’d been nice.

            Derek and Stiles stumble into his apartment.

            “Stiles, I wish you didn’t do this because you’re sad,” Derek admits as he helps Stiles down the hall to his bedroom. “You deserve better.”

            Stiles snorts, and then falls onto his bed. He crawls up to his pillow and then collapses. He looks up at Derek though. “Would you…would you stay tonight?”

            “Sure. Let me go lock the door,” Derek tells him. He doesn’t know why Stiles had asked, but he’s not going to leave Stiles alone. He locks the front door.

            When he gets back to Stiles’ room, Stiles is fighting to kick his jeans off. Derek silently walks over, and tugs them down.

            “Thanks, dude,” Stiles says quietly. “Will you…?”

            Derek yanks his jeans off. He’s not sleeping in that shit. And then he crawls underneath the covers with Stiles. He wonders if Stiles can hear his heart beating loudly in his drunken world. “I’m sorry for being such a dick to you.”

            “Ha,” Stiles says softly. “ _I_ should be apologizing. Kate…Kate being crazy, like she was, that was never your fault.”

            Derek remembers that fight. It’d happened not long after their one, quiet, blissful night. They’d been so close to being friends. Derek’s positive he drove Boyd insane, with his obsession over why Stiles had suddenly switched back to ‘asshole mode’. He winces, and turns to his side to look at Stiles. “I know you weren’t serious.”

            “Oh?” Stiles says. Then he groans. “Oh god, I’m _nauseous_. This is torture.”

            “I can get you some water,” Derek suggests.

            “There’s a water bottle beside you.”

            Derek reaches behind him to grab it. He hands it to Stiles.

            “Derek?” Stiles asks.

            “Yeah?”

            “I…I’m glad you know I don’t mean half the shit I say to you,” Stiles tells him. “I don’t. I don’t know why I’m so… _mean_.”

            “It’s okay, Stiles. Why don’t you get some sleep?” Derek suggests.

            Stiles fingers intertwine with Derek’s. “I’d rather talk to you.”

            “Okay,” Derek murmurs.

            They talk quietly, as if talking at a normal voice would break the spell that’s settled over them. They have an unspoken agreement about no more apologies, but Derek can feel something tugging in the pit of his stomach.

            Progress. They’re making progress.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

            When Derek wakes up, he finds himself sprawled on top of Stiles. He scrunches his nose, because he’s positive he’s crushing the kid. He rolls off, and gets out of the bed.

            He’s about to pull his jeans on when Stiles stretches and looks up at him. “Morning, Hale. Skipping out on me, like a one-night stand?”

            “Maybe,” Derek says, finding himself amused.

            “Well…” Stiles waves a hand in the air.

            “Well?” Derek prompts.

            “Thanks,” Stiles says. He sits up a bit, groaning and touching his head when he does. “Thanks for finding me last night. For being here. It’s a tough weekend for me.”

            Derek’s confused, until he focuses on the date. What was familiar about the date?

            “My mom’s anniversary was yesterday,” Stiles explains quietly.

            “Where was Scott and—?”

            “I told them I wanted to be alone,” Stiles says. He coughs a little. “In hindsight, that was a stupid request.”

            “I didn’t realize, Stiles. I’m sorry.” Derek isn’t sure whether he should keep pulling his pants on.

            “It’s fine,” Stiles says dismissively. “It was probably one of the better anniversaries I’ve had.”

            Derek doesn’t know what to say to that.

            Stiles says, “Thanks, again. Thanks for…being there.”

            “I…of course, Stiles,” Derek stammers. He adds, “Do you have plans for today?”

            “Nope,” Stiles responds, lying back on the bed.

            “Want some company?”

            “Sure.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

 **STILES:** _hey thanks for this weekend_

 **DEREK:** _I had a good time, Stiles_

 **STILES:** _yeah, me too  
_ **STILES:** _I told Erica—expect an interrogation_

 **DEREK:** _asshole_

 **STILES:** _this is what friends do, right?_

Derek thinks about the way Stiles’ fingers had been intertwined in his most of the weekend. He smiles. They won’t be just friends for long.

 

 **DEREK:** _you're still a jerk_ _  
_

**STILES:** _pfft_

 **DEREK:** _thanks for this weekend too_

 **STILES:** _let’s do it again?_  
 **STILES:** _more food and movies and video games  
_ **STILES:** _maybe less drunk Stiles and sober Derek?_

 **DEREK:** _it’s a date_

            And when they meet up the following weekend, Derek makes sure Stiles knows that it’s a date. Stiles doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this particular piece, to be honest.
> 
> But it's a good writing exercise, so...here it is.


End file.
